


J is for Just What You Need

by scarletmanuka



Series: V/V Alphabet Challenge [10]
Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-07-28 15:15:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7646227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletmanuka/pseuds/scarletmanuka





	J is for Just What You Need

Vetinari couldn’t concentrate. It was rare for him to suffer from such a lapse, but today he just couldn’t keep his mind on any one thing. The report in his hand dropped back to the desk and, since he was alone, he allowed himself to rub at his eyes and sigh. 

He’d gone to visit the grave of Wuffles this morning, like he did every week. He thought that perhaps after all this time it would start to get easier, but it just seemed to be getting harder. Every now and then he would come across a stray dog hair on his robes and his heart would ache. He would hear a noise and instinctively look for the small terrier, and when he wasn’t there his breath would catch in his throat. At night as he lay in bed with his feet only warmed by the blanket and not a small, furry body his eyes would well in the dark. 

The Patrician of Ankh-Morpork was still grieving and he grieved alone. 

A few minutes later, Drumknott brought him a cup of tea, and he pulled himself together and got back to work. He pushed himself harder than usual to make up for his lapse, and by late afternoon he had cleared his entire in tray. 

There was a soft knock at the door and his clerk popped his head through the door. “Commander Vimes is here to see you, my lord. He doesn’t have an appointment. Shall I send him away?”

“Send him in, thank you, Drumknott. I have some time free.”

“As you say, sir.”

A moment later the Commander of the City Watch entered, carrying quite a large box. 

“Sir Samuel, good evening. Please, sit down.”

To his surprise, the Commander did just this, the box balancing on his lap. Vetinari allowed one of his eyebrows to arch upwards. 

“Sir, thank you for seeing me at such short notice.”

“My pleasure, Commander. Tell me, to what do I owe this honour?”

Vimes squirmed in his seat and managed to look bashful. “We’ve known each other for some time now…”

“I think it’s been somewhere close to twenty years now.”

“Yeeees...well, I know we’ve not always seen eye to eye, and I know that we’ve at times had a turbulent working relationship,” Vimes said, clearing his throat.

“You must know that I hold you in the highest regard, Sir Samuel.”

“Well, as much as I might moan a bit, and have threatened to punch you in the face on several occasions, I really don’t think you’re a bad sort.”

“You’ve missed your true calling, Commander. You could have written greeting cards.”

Vimes glared. “As I was saying,” he continued with a huff, “I hope we know each other well enough that I’m not overstepping my bounds here.”

“Why would that be?”

“Well, I’m not sure if you’ve realised, but this isn’t exactly a work related meeting. It’s more of a...personal call.”

“Funnily enough, I did get that impression.”

“You’re really making me want to punch you again.” 

Vetinari suppressed a smile as the full extent of the Vimes Glare was levelled at him. “Apologies, Commander. Please, do carry on.”

“It’s not Commander. As I said, this is personal.”

“Very well. Sir Samuel?”

Vimes nodded, and started again. “Look, I don’t really know how to say this, and I’m sure it will come out all wrong, so I’ll just go ahead and say it. I’ve noticed lately that you’ve been a bit down. I know you’re not the type to tap dance across the office floor and sing songs, but even for you, you’ve been more withdrawn.”

‘You’re concerned about me?” 

Vimes gave a curt nod. “I think you’re lonely. And I think I can do something to fix that.”

Vetinari stared at the man in shock, unsure of where this conversation was going. Vimes seemed more embarrassed than he’d ever seen him, and he had no idea what to expect.

“What are you suggesting?” Vetinari asked, keeping his voice as neutral as possible. Before Vimes could respond, there was a small yip from the box. “Sir Samuel, pray tell, what’s in the box?”

Vimes blushed. “Um, well, it’s something for you, sir. Company, if you like.” He took the lid of the box and reached inside. When he pulled his hands out he was holding a small bundle of fluff. He put the box on the floor and stood up, reaching across the desk to hand the furball to the Patrician.

Vetinari was shaking as he accepted the tiny puppy. It wriggled in his hands, and snuffled at his neck, touching its cold nose to his skin. “Hello there,” he murmured into the fur. The puppy yipped again and climbed up his chest to lay against his shoulder. He leaned his cheek against the small body and chuckled as the puppy licked at his cheek. “What’s his name? Or her name?”

Vimes shrugged. “He doesn’t have a name yet. I thought you should be the one to give him one.”

Vetinari carefully placed the puppy on the ground, who immediately darted under the desk and started sniffing around. He took in a shaky breath, and hoped that his cheeks weren’t wet. “I don’t know what to say, Sir Samuel. Thank you just doesn’t seem to be enough to express my gratitude.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Vimes replied, his voice not quite as gruff as usual. “I knew you wouldn’t have gotten another dog on your own yet. You’re still grieving for Wuffles. But when I saw him, I knew he was just what you need.” He cleared his throat. “Well, I should probably get going. Leave you two to get acquainted.” He picked up the box and headed for the door. “Goodnight, sir.”

“Goodnight, Sir Samuel. And again - thank you.”

The door closed and Vetinari got down on his knees and looked under the desk. The puppy had found a pencil he had dropped and was chewing on it. “Here, boy, come here,” he called, holding a hand out to the puppy. “Come on. Come here, Sam, come on.” The puppy dropped the pencil and waddled over to him and sniffed at his hand. Vetinari picked him up and cradled him to his chest. “Good boy, Sam. Who’s a good boy? Are you a good boy? Yes you are!” He stood, and picked up the newspaper on his desk so he could line the floor of his bedroom. “Come on, Sam, let’s show you around your new home.” 


End file.
